Notches on the Bedpost
by SabreDae
Summary: The M rated version(s) of chapters from one of my other works, If You See Kate. It's not entirely necessary, but I would strongly suggest you read that story first before reading this.


**A/N: So here's the extended M rated version of Chapter 9 of If You See Kate. It goes without saying that I do not own Castle or it's characters.**

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His lips are barely on hers for more than a second before they're moving down to her neck, lathing over where her pulse pounds against her skin. Her traitorous body works against her, hands rising to lock around his neck and pin him in place against her because _damn him_ the way he's working his mouth over her skin feels _good_. Not just in a you're-a-pretty-good-kisser way but in a holy-shit-take-me-now way. How he knows _exactly _where her sensitive spot is – the one that literally makes her weak in the knees and has her gripping tightly to his biceps – would be a pressing issue if her mind wasn't clouded with lust.

It takes him mere seconds to take off her coat and unbutton her shirt and then his hands are on her, everywhere all at once. Her skin erupts in a trail of gooseflesh everywhere his calloused fingers touch her skin and she trembles under his ministrations, warmth pooling in her middle when his lips find her clavicle.

She's not even moved, her muscles seemingly locked in place – the hold she has on his head probably painful now – and yet he's still kissing her, unperturbed by her lack of reciprocation. Hell, she's actually embarrassed by the fact that he's managed to take off her shirt and is fingering the clasp of her bra, _teasing _her and she hasn't made a single move towards equalling their level of dress. He's already had to remove his own coat.

"Where's the bedroom?" he mumbles against her skin, startling her into movement finally. When she spins, his hands land somewhere near her waist and his lips press against her neck, the tip of his nose disturbing her hair as he deliberately inhales the aroma of cherries. Her breath catches and she gasps audibly. She feels him grinning in response, his smug smile etching into her back when he ducks and presses a kiss between her shoulder blades. She gets the last laugh though. Reaching a hand back and palming him through his pants earns her a strangled noise before she releases him and leads the way into her dark bedroom, saucily swaying her hips because she knows he's watching.

It shocks her when he grabs her from behind. In her head he'd been standing there gawking at her sexy walk not suddenly lunging for her and lining his body up behind her so she can feel exactly what her womanly wiles are doing to him. The push back of her hips is anything but innocent as he shuffles them forwards, one of his hands moving around her body and to the button of her slacks. The work clothes she still hasn't changed out of are easy to unzip, allowing his hand to slide under the elastic of her panties and lightly stroke over her clit. She strains in his hold, trying to press harder against his hand and get some kind of friction to relieve the pressure building inside her. But his touch is fleeting and his hand skims back over her pubis as he removes it from her underwear, the movement far too deliberate. The knowledge that he's purposefully holding back, trying to draw this out fuels her with fire and she twists quicker than a coiled snake springing after its prey, grappling with his shirt and tearing it open.

His mouth opens to protest about his ruined shirt but any words he had are smothered by her demanding kiss. She nips and sucks at his lower lip, stroking her tongue over the length of his and smirking at his deep groan that builds and vibrates through them both. Pushing his torn and now-button-less button-down shirt off his shoulders, she runs her hands down his toned frame, squeezing slightly under his ribcage. The discovery that he's apparently ticklish there is information she stores away for later, though she has no clue why. Not when he's lowering her onto her bed and slowly pulling her trousers down her legs, taking his sweet time with the task until she impatiently bucks her hips off the bed.

With her black pants gone, all she's left in is her underwear. Eager to get things really moving, she lurches up until she's sat with her legs over the edge of the bed and his crotch is level with her face. Her eyes flash to his, keeping eye contact as she slides the zipper down, letting the two strips of metal come apart one tooth at a time, torturing him as he did her. If her fingers brush over the defined bulge in pants before she hooks her fingers into his belt loops and tugs, well that's just accidental.

His hands slide into her short hair, tangling and gripping just behind her ears to angle her mouth towards his. Clambering onto the bed, he noses one of his knees between hers, jerking when she grinds onto his thigh. She grins wickedly as one of her hands reaches out and blindly opens a draw on her left. The wrapper of the condom she's picked out crinkles before she puts it down on the table.

"There a problem, _Kitten_?"

Instead of answering, he pulls one of the cups of her bra down and without warning latches onto her revealed nipple. She surges upwards, hands holding his head to her chest – not that he'd even been considering moving away.

"Didn't think so," she mutters, completely breathless. The sound of her uneven breathing, the hitch she gets every time his teeth grave her sensitive flesh, is music to his ears. She arches to allow his wandering hand to finally unhook her black bra, thanking whatever higher power there is for how talented Richard Castle's mouth is when he's not talking.

It feels like no time at all before he's abandoning her chest, trailing kisses down her torso and around her bellybutton, making her squirm below him every time the scruff of his stubble scratches her sensitive skin. There's a dark patch on her panties when he pulls them down her shapely legs and throws them somewhere in the dark behind him, no longer caring about the piece of material that completes her underwear set now that she's fully naked beneath him.

"Divine," she thinks she hears him murmur, voice a reverent whisper. It's hard to be sure though because he wastes no time pressing open mouthed kisses to the insides of her thighs.

He kneels between her legs, breathing in the scent of her arousal before he experimentally flicks his tongue out over her, earning himself a buck of her hips. He can see her muscles contracting in expectation. She's so charged that every touch of his mouth or his fingers has her writhing and he's forced to restrain her with an arm over her hips. The way he's working her though, playing her body like an instrument, it would be impossible for her not to strain towards him. She comes like a breaking storm, simultaneous stimulation of two of his fingers over her g-spot and his tongue on her clit doing wonders.

While she's still recovering, he divests himself of his boxers and grabs the condom, ripping the foil open and sheathing himself before settling between her legs. Pulling one up by the knee and wrapping it around his hip as he pushed into her warm heat, the sensation of her tight muscles around him pulling a deep groan from his lips.

"Fuck."

She arches in response, her muscles shifting around him and her abdomen brushing his, sparking in him the need to _move_. Her stuttered gasp echoes through the dark room as he withdraws before pumping back into her. Delirious with pleasure, she grasps at the closest thing – the satin throw beneath her, twisting her fingers into it and biting her lip as she rolls her hips with him.

The moans start slow, but she's soon mewling – a sound she _swears _has never left her mouth during sex before. Not even with Will. It's just so _good. _Positively amazing, actually. Mind-bogglingly so.

She's so close, just needing that little something to push her over the edge and into her second orgasm of the night. "Faster," she mutters, but even as she says the words, he's already picking up the pace – reading her mind as easily as he finishes her sentences. One of his hands tangles with hers; sweaty palms pressed together just like their lips.

When an arch of her back brings him into contact with her g-spot, she desperately grabs at him, nails scraping over his shoulder and down his ribs before she manages to grip his bicep, grounding herself as the coiled pressure in her core snaps like an elastic band and her climax rushes through her. Head thrown back, eyes shut tight, she quakes, muscles repeatedly contracting around him until after a few thrusts it's too much and he's coming inside her. Spent, his head drops, forehead resting against her shoulder.

His hot breath whispers against her flushed skin and it's only then that it hits her.

_What has she done?_

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Only the moonlight illuminates her naked form. It shines off of the thin film of sweat that coats her body, showing her chest rapidly rising and falling while she comes down from her euphoric high. God, it's beautiful, he thinks. _She's _beautiful.

"That was-" he breaks off, tries to think of a word that appropriately describes how _earth-shattering _that experience was before only lamely coming up with, "wow!" He doesn't notice her flinch when he splays one of his palms across her stomach or the way her eyes flick to him before filling with regret.

She jerks upright and grabs for the bedsheet, covering her modesty from him.

"Kate?" he asks, propping himself on his elbow, looking at her with concern.

The use of her first name makes her cringe and want to bolt for the door but she tames the reaction and instead forces herself to look at him. "This was a mistake. Y-you should go, Castle." After that she stands and walks into her bathroom, desperately trying to hide how much her legs shake, and locks the door behind her, running a shower. He can hear the water and for a minute he stays there lying on her bed and staring, expecting the door to open again and for her to walk out and say she was joking because how could something so perfect, so _right_ have been a mistake. When it's clear she's not coming out, he stands and shuffles about her bedroom, numbly collecting his clothes.

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Hesitance pervades as she eases the door open and then breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of her empty bedroom. He's gone, thankfully. Not that she'd expected him to stick around, not after he'd made his conquest.

She tiptoes barefoot, clad only in the towel she'd wrapped around her body after showering, through her dark apartment to make sure her front door is deadbolted. On the way back to her bedroom, she doesn't bother turning lights on, but at the sight of her messy bed she halts. It's a shameful reminder of what she's just left happen. Instead she grabs a blanket so she can sleep on the couch for the night. She wants a peaceful night's sleep, but the ghost of his touch refuses to leave her. She can still feel his fingers digging into the skin of her hips, remembers the scrape of his stubble on the insides of her thighs. The memory of him burns on her skin and in her memory.

When she stumbles into work the next morning, with tired and bloodshot eyes hidden beneath layer upon layer of makeup, she just wants the day to be over. She's hoping for a chance to work through the pile up of paperwork on her desk rather than an open case. She doesn't have the energy to think hard enough to solve a case and it kills her a little bit inside that she's going to be failing at her job today.

"Beckett." It's curt and it jolts her in her chair.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" she hisses, launching her body out of her chair and hussling him straight into the breakroom. "Out!" It's an order, a command that gets the two junior detectives straight into the bullpen even though she technically has no authority over them. As she shuts the blinds, she sees both Esposito and Ryan peering over from their desks, blatantly spying. The sigh stokes her fire, feeds and fuels her ire. "You shouldn't be here."

"I came to work," he argues, nettled by her harsh and cold tone. "I need to observe you, remember? For my book?"

"No, you need to leave. I don't want you here."

"Why? Because we slept together? Because you lied to me? Why, Beckett?"

Her steel eyes bore through him as she grits her teeth, and then yells, "Shut up, Castle!"

They're toe to toe and though she's wearing a pair of her stiletto-heeled boots, he's still an inch or two taller than her. Her eyes blaze no less though as she glares up at him, the both of them locked in some kind of bubble of anger.

Suddenly, though, the door is open and Esposito is looking in, eyes moving between them. "There a problem here?"

"No," Beckett replies tightly before squeezing past. From her desk she watches Castle join Espo at Ryan's desk, the three of them gossiping like mother hens. Her heart sinks as she watches Esposito bump fists with him. The idea that he's told Ryan and Espo is unbearable, even more so than knowing that she has just become another notch on his bedpost.

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**A/N: Still pretty new to this M stuff... Review? **

**I've marked this story as complete because at this point in time I'm not far enough ahead with my If You See Kate plan to know whether there will be more M rated chapters. **


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